Red Handkerchief
by Courtney.Wortney
Summary: Sequel to Purple Scarf. Six months after saying good-bye to Sherlock, John is called into action again by none other than the detective himself. Sherlock and John haven't seen the last of Robert Crimson's work, and when a haunting figure returns, it is not John or Sherlock in danger but someone unexpected. Post Reichenbach.


I have now started the sequel to Purple Scarf, set six months after John said goodbye to Sherlock.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. You know this but eh lets do it anyway.**

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><p>John had been dreaming. He couldn't remember what he was dreaming about but he awoke in a cold sweat gasping for breath. Mary was still asleep next to him. He wanted to wake her so he wouldn't feel so alone. He had never felt so lonely in his life as he sat in the darkness staring at the wall opposite him. He wanted to wander downstairs and make a tea but there was no downstairs. He wanted to occupy his racing mind by staring at the spider web of Sherlock's information but he couldn't, because it wasn't there. He wasn't in 221b Baker Street and what made it worse was that it still existed, almost mocking him. Baker Street was a fifteen minute walk from his flat with Mary, but there was no Sherlock and John. 221b Baker Street was an empty flat; it was slowly losing its significance to John more and more each day. But it was still there! It shouldn't be there anymore because Sherlock and John, the crime fighting duo, didn't live there anymore. With that last thought John realized he wasn't going to get any sleep tonight. He briefly thought about waking Mary because she was the only thing that made him feel human.<p>

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><p>The sun was just beginning to rise, catching the dust swirling through the air. The TV was on in the lounge but John had given up watching that long ago. It was just background noise to fill the silence, how long had it been since John had said goodbye that night at the Holmes manor? It could have been 3 days and it would have felt like 3 years anyway so John was unsure why it mattered. "John" Mary questioned, switching the kitchen light on "how long have you been awake?" she asked squinting against the bright light. "Not long" he lied. Mary shook her head and wandered off. Six months, that's how long it had been since John had seen Sherlock. He was getting married next month, a thought that made his stomach do somersaults. The wedding plans lay spread across the kitchen table from last night's heated discussion about the best man. Mary had suggested Lestrade for best man. She didn't mean to accidentally forget Sherlock, she knew it would be nearly impossible for Sherlock to be best man. John didn't know whether Sherlock being accidentally forgotten was worse than Sherlock being forgotten on purpose. One meant that Sherlock was gradually becoming less important; one meant that they had both truly realized they would never see him again. John sighed into his coffee and stood to tip it down the sink. The warmth of the shower helped John perk up and he found himself in a better mood than he had in a while. The weather was becoming warmer which seemed to help improve his mood. Spring was just beginning to break through winter, bringing strong warm winds and sunshine. The usual commute to work didn't drag this morning; the cab seemed to effortlessly move through what little traffic there was on the roads. The public holiday meant that most people were still at home in bed but John wasn't as lucky, he had given up his public holidays to work at the hospital. John's phone buzzed in his pocket but he ignored it and shrugged his coat off. "Morning John" Sarah called as she passed through the hallway. "Morning" John called back; the day would have been uneventful if John hadn't read that text. It would have just been another uneventful day at work.<p>

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><p>"It's your lunch now John" Sarah's voice muffled through the speaker. John could feel the eyes of everyone in the cafeteria on him. Even though it had been six months, the news was just beginning to catch up on the whole thing. Sherlock's court trials had begun 3 months ago and were still ongoing. John had done his best to avoid them on the news but Mary had a fascination with watching them. She said they were important and John believed her but if he couldn't hear about the trials from Sherlock, he didn't want to hear about them from anyone. "John!" a hand shot up from the end of the cafeteria. <em>Oh great<em> John thought, he tried to ignore the hand, pretend he didn't see it, he didn't recognize the voice anyway and he wasn't in the moods for anyone asking if he had heard from Sherlock. The hand was persistent though and soon the hand became someone pushing through the cafeteria to sit with him.  
>"Have you heard from Sherlock" the woman asked. John took a mouthful of pasta and glared at her. She had short bobbed blond hair and striking green eyes that seemed to hide something. She was just what John was expecting, a new medical student transferred from another college, to 'gain work experience.' John knew the three medical students to transfer here were only interested in the famous John Watson. At least as famous as you can get when your old best friend is undergoing trial for murder. John stood up to take his leave, taking his tray with him but the woman grabbed his wrist, John's pasta slipped from his tray and smashed on the cafeteria floor. The room went deathly quiet as the plate smashed and echoed through the room. He was angry now. "Look lady, I haven't heard from Sherlock bloody Holmes in six months I have no new information! So you can tell you and all your buddies, donning their deerstalkers and claiming you care to stop hounding us! Getting information from me is like getting blood out of a stone, it won't happen" The woman glared back at John through his speech, he green eyes sparkling in amusement. "You are very loyal to someone who abandoned you John." The cafeteria began to hum with conversation again. John was about to snap back but her comment struck him as different. "Sit down John you are going to create a scene" John sat.<br>"How do you know about that?" John asked utterly taken aback by the woman's knowledge on something that hadn't even been in the public spotlight. "Never mind how I know about that, you got a message today didn't you John?" she asked. John nodded dumbly.  
>"I haven't read it yet, I've been busy" he replied.<br>"Well maybe you should" the woman stood. "I hear the pasta is very good here" she said staring down at John's splattered on the floor. "Read the message John and then you need to come with me" she left, he blond hair bobbing behind her. She made her way to the buffet and John pulled out his phone.

1 new message

_Follow the woman, trust me John_

John's stomach swooped uncomfortably but it was a feeling he hadn't felt in six months it was a familiar comforting feeling that excited him and made him realize why he had struck a friendship with Sherlock in the first place. He glanced at the woman standing at the buffet; she wore a lab coat that was obviously not hers it was too big, she had stolen it to get in to the cafeteria. He pocketed his phone and avoiding the ruined pasta made his way towards her. "Who sent you?" John asked, the woman ignored him.  
>"Should I have the chicken cabonara or the mushroom pasta?" she asked looking between the two<br>"Who sent you?" John asked again. She smiled a sly grin and looked up at him and simply walked away from John. The man serving the food stared at John his serving spoon hovering over the pasta. John glanced back at him and smiled nervously before taking off after the woman. "You have your next appointment at 6" the receptionist said in a bored tone. John paused.  
>"Um cancel all appointments, I'm not feeling to good" he said, placing a hand over his stomach "The pasta I think" he said, the receptionist shrugged.<br>John's phone beeped in his pocket and he pulled it out as he approached the woman.

_Hurry up John _

"Where are we going?" he asked.  
>"Patience" she replied. The woman hailed a cab. John kept a wary eye on the woman that sat opposite him. She had a regal look to her, the way she held herself. Her pointy chin was held high. There was a gleam in her eyes that gave John a reason not to trust her. A small sparkle that held important information, she was smart. She was someone who didn't pass around information or secrets that she held very easily, John wouldn't waste his time trying to speak to her. There was something else about this woman that John couldn't put his finger on. There was dirt under her fingernails and her hands were covered in scratches and scars and she was tense, she was nervous. The woman looked from the window to him and John turned his attention to the city. It had started to rain. The cab pulled up outside the entrance to Tower Bridge. Memories rushed back to greet John as he stepped from the cab. The woman had marched ahead of him and took a familiar path. There were still small bullet holes that littered the stone of the pillars, John's fingers ran along them and connected them like a connect-the-dots. The cab drove off leaving John and the woman alone. John glanced around him. The abandoned factory and shed that held Crimsons boats sat silhouetted in the setting sun. Big Ben's tower was reflected in the Thames below him. The rain began falling heavily now rippling the water. John followed the path towards the locked door that led underneath parliament. The woman stopped at the door and stared at John expectantly. John stepped forwards to reach the keypad and punched in the letters.<p>

SHERLOCK

The woman smiled and the door swung open. The lights still hadn't been repaired and some were beginning to flicker. They cast an odd light over the tunnel. The woman didn't turn around once as they marched through the tunnel and at last reached the small manhole that had led John and Victoria to Big Ben's tower. The small dungeon style room was empty this time. No one to greet them or ask them what they were doing. The climb to the tower seemed longer than it had last time they climbed the same steps. John was running on fear and adrenaline last time. He didn't understand why he trusted this woman. She could be leading him anywhere. John was following the addictive feeling of the unknown. The woman smiled down at John, she held the door to the bell tower slightly ajar, inviting him into the mystery. "He is waiting for you in there, I can't follow unfortunately" John glanced down the stairs they had just climbed, he could back out now. He doubted the woman would stop him, there were no threats made and she walked ahead uncaring if he was following most of the time. No this person didn't want to kidnap him. He looked back up at the woman watching him challenge his decision. She seemed curious to see the decision he reached as much as John was. His final choice didn't surprise him as he walked through the door. Frankly if he had chosen to run that would have surprised him more. The door was slammed shut behind him and it echoed through the bell tower mixing with the deafening turning of cogs. His eyes searched the bell tower but it was too dark now to see anything. The sun had set while he was climbing. The woman had literally led him into the darkness and the unknown. "I knew you couldn't resist the suspense and adrenaline of a good mystery John"

_Oh God _was John's first thought. "Sherlock"

A familiar figure stepped from the shadow of the bell and his phone screen illuminated his face as if he were telling a horror story. His phone made the small _whoosh_ as he sent a text. John shook his head and looked down at his shoes. "Hello John" John didn't understand how Sherlock was standing in front of him. Mycroft hadn't been able to hold him at the Holmes manor for the last month of the trials and he had spent that time locked in prison, despite reassuring John he would be safe until he was convicted. How Sherlock had escaped from prison baffled John.  
>"How did you get out?" was the first question John asked. It was then John realized how much their friendship had changed. John wasn't excited as he should have been to see Sherlock. He was more concerned about anyone seeing Sherlock. No doubt his escape would be publicized everywhere and once again, John would be hounded for information and interrogated by the police, his life would be as usual thrown into a dangerous game. Sherlock had become a black cloud over his life. He wanted to leave without hearing Sherlock's explanation but he couldn't move. He could see the look on Sherlock's face from the light that had switched on to illuminate Big Ben. Sherlock had reached the same conclusion as John. "They sentenced me last night"<br>"Did they?"  
>"10 years imprisonment" John had blocked himself from the emotion that would usually come from hearing that.<br>"Do you even care John? This is out of my control and I hate that it has ruined our friendship, I know you don't hate me but you can't bear to look at me" Sherlock said. John suddenly realized he was doing anything he could to avoid looking directly at Sherlock. The light of the clock face was a welcome distraction. "I've killed people in defense and you can't bear to look at me. You have killed in defense and I did nothing but accept it" John stared Sherlock directly in the eyes now. He couldn't deny that fact. "They will come looking for you" John said. Sherlock's shoulders dropped significantly.  
>"Okay John, I'll leave" Sherlock said in defeat. He turned and pulled out his phone, the illumination glowed in his eyes and they widened in fright. John took a step forward. It was a natural instinct to protect the detective that had been drilled into him. "John's you may want to cover your ears because it's going 8 o'clock and –" Sherlock's last word was cut off by a sound unlike John had ever heard. A deafening ring roared through the clock tower. It shook the tower and echoed so loudly in John's ears he believed it would be the last time he ever heard anything again. He ran for Sherlock and gripped his arm, keeping one hand firmly against his ear but it did little to protect his ears. John dragged Sherlock from the bell tower as the bell chimed a third time. In between the chimes John was screaming at Sherlock to run, they barreled down the stairs that led to the tunnel so fast, Sherlock couldn't keep up. He felt his hand slip from his, the panic he had been blocking returned on instinct, he looked behind him. Sherlock was kneeling on the step, his hands thrown over his ears and his eyes tightly shut.<p>

"SHERLOCK" John shouted although he couldn't hear himself; all he could hear was the deafening ringing that vibrated through the staircase. He ran towards him and grabbed his arm but Sherlock refused to move. The bell chimed for the eighth time and fell silent. There was a loud buzz that continued to ring through the clock tower. It mixed with the ringing. It was worse than the bell chimes themselves. Neither Sherlock nor John could hear anything. John tugged at Sherlock's arm, he stood and stared at John, he wore a look of utter shell shock. He took off running John following behind him. Sherlock threw his hand behind him and John grabbed it. Sherlock was now leading the way through the dungeon room. The ringing intensified and John began to worry he would never hear anything again. He reached to touch his ears, thankfully they weren't bleeding. Sherlock skidded to a halt and John and Sherlock collapsed to the dusty floor of the small underground basement. Sherlock was gasping for breath next to him John was having a hard time catching his but as the two sat gasping for as much air as possible, John could feel the buzz of thrill coursing through his veins. It infected his blood stream. He smiled, he couldn't help it, he glanced over at Sherlock who had begun shaking. John placed a hand on his back but he soon realized he was laughing. He was heaving with laughter. John laughed, they couldn't hear each other but if they could they would sound like a pair of crazed men laughing in a dark, dusty basement. The men looked at each other; Sherlock's eyes sparkled with excitement. John understood why they were laughing; it was the most thrilling experience in six months for both of them. They _were_ crazed men laughing in a dark, dusty basement. John clapped Sherlock on the back and shook his head. The ringing began to fade and John was able to hear Sherlock laughing next to him. He didn't have time to be upset; he was just praising God he could still hear. "Can you hear me!?" John shouted, Sherlock nodded.  
>"Just" he said. They didn't need to talk to each other again or sort anything out to realize that both had been equally forgiven. John realized that no matter how upset he was at Sherlock he couldn't rid the instinct that made him care. He couldn't give up on him because it would go against everything in his mind. Sherlock had become so ingrained in him that he couldn't detach himself from him. And he knew Sherlock felt the exact same way.<br>"John you should go" Sherlock said once he had regained control of his breathing and composure. "The city is crawling with police looking for me and if you are seen with me you will be arrested as well." John shook his head.  
>"I don't care, you escaped prison for a reason Sherlock and I want to know why" John asked. Sherlock ran a hand over his face, he had just remembered why he was here and John knew it wouldn't be good news. Sherlock looked him square in the eye and the smile he wore before had dissolved. John wanted him to go back to smiling, he didn't like this look. It was a worried look; he was scared of telling John.<p>

"Tell me what's happened Sherlock" John said, his voice dropping.

"Mary is in danger."

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><p>Hope you enjoyed it. Read and review. :)<p> 


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